


Unwrap Me

by kittenofdoomage



Series: The Twelve Days Of Kinkmas 2017 [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Presents are so fun to unwrap, even if you’re not a massive fan of Christmas





	Unwrap Me

 

“You’re such a Grinch,” Dean grumbled, standing up from his chair and walking off, leaving you rolling your eyes at his behavior. Turning to Sam as the older brother disappeared, you plastered a frown on your face.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Sam sighed, putting down the book he was reading. “Dean’s always been way more into Christmas than me. The family thing, the presents - the food,” he added, as an afterthought. “I think, this year, with you here and Mom back and everything, he was hoping for a little more than  Chinese take out.”

You looked down at your fingernails, wondering if you should bother repolishing them. “I’ve just never been big on Christmas. He knows that. It’s not my favorite holiday. Like Halloween isn’t yours?”

“I’m not a fan of any holidays. But they were always a high point for him, even with our crappy childhood. I think he clings to that sense of normalcy -”

“We live in an underground bunker and hunt monsters, Sam. That’s not any part of the normal life. He knows that.”

There was a silence for a few moments, before Sam shut his book, looking at you with a deadly serious expression. “Ever think that maybe that’s why he clings to them? Why he bought you roses for Valentine’s Day last year and this year? Why he still hides Easter Eggs? He doesn’t believe in this stuff - but we all need a little reason to keep going.”

You fell silent, stunned at the realization of what Sam meant. Of course, Dean knew there was no normal for you, for any of you; but he could have a holiday season and enjoy it, and actually have something in his life that wasn’t death and gore. It wasn’t a matter of you not being enough to keep him happy - this was something entirely different.

“Go talk to him,” Sam urged, standing up. “I’m going to bed.”

Sitting alone in the library, you mused over what Sam had said, giving it a few moments before following Dean’s path to his room. You kept your own bedroom, just in case you needed space, or were sick, and when you found his door locked, your heart sank. Retreating to your room, which was mostly devoid of your belongings, you curled up on the bed, closing your eyes.

*****

A jingling noise woke you an hour later, and you sat up from the bed, wiping at your sore eyes. The sound was coming from outside your room, and you frowned as you padded to the doorway, moving along the corridor, following the noise. It wasn’t in the war room, and you were tempted to call out for Sam or Dean, but as you walked into the library, you stopped dead, your jaw going slack.

There was a huge tree on one side of the room - the tables were shifted slightly out of the way. One chair sat alone by the tree, and Dean stood behind it, smiling with his hands on the backrest. “Dean?”

“Merry Christmas,” he announced, gesturing to the library. “I know, I know, you don’t really  _ do _ Christmas,  _ but _ …” He looked a little sheepish, and your heart just about melted with the effort he’d gone to. Beautiful red poinsettias covered the shelves, along with tinsel and garlands, and the tree was meticulously perfect, balanced with gold and silver, and a star on top.

“Dean, this is…” You were lost for words, but apparently, he wasn’t finished.

“And I know it isn’t technically Christmas until next week, but I wanna give you your present early.”

“Dean, you don’t have to do this -”

“Yeah, I do. I was mean, and I was in a mood, and things have been hard lately with Mom and the Men of Letters, and…” Dean sighed, stopping and letting his arms fall to the side of his body as he looked at you with such an earnest expression, you felt like you’d hurt him. “I wanted to do something nice. For us.”

You moved a little closer, but before you could reach him, he pointed at the chair.

“Sit.”

Obeying, you frowned, watching him walk around you to stand in front. He was wearing odd clothes - ones you’d never seen on him before - and the jingling noise seemed to be coming from him. “What’s that sound?” you asked, sitting back in the chair. “I’m really confused right now, just for the record.”

“All will be revealed,” Dean said, smiling. “Literally.”

He turned to the table, where you noticed a stereo sitting, and pressed play. The sultry tones of Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” started, and you blinked, wondering if he was actually going to do what you thought he was gonna do. “Dean, you locked me out last night,” you murmured, keeping your eyes on him.

“I know. And I’m sorry. But I wanted to do something to show you how much you mean to me, and… well…” Dean trailed off, smirking as he started to move his hips to the music.

“Er…” You blinked, folding your hands around the seat of the chair as Dean pulled off his plaid overshirt. “Dean… what are you doing?”

“Unwrapping your present,” he quipped, winking.

You could feel the heat in your cheeks. “Dean, I’m not… what if Sam comes in?!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Sam’s aware he shouldn’t leave his room.” Dean moved closer, still undulating his hips in an obscene fashion to the music. “We got a while.” He thrust his groin forward, almost into your face and you yelped. “Sorry, I’m a little out of practice.”

“You’ve done this before?” You had to ask the question; you couldn’t even stop it coming out of your mouth. 

“A few… decades…ago...” he muttered, looking a smidge embarrassed by the admission. “I was a little more adventurous in my youth.” God, his pants were jingling, and you couldn’t figure out what the damn noise was. “Not quite as flexible now.”

“You’re flexible enough,” you replied, smirking as he kept shaking his ass. “Dean, seriously, the dancing - it’s like watching my uncle at a wedding. Is there a point to this?”

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, I give. I was never much of a dancer, but I’m good at other things.” His fingers teased the edge of his t-shirt, and he tugged it upwards, giving you a nice view of his flat belly. Though he didn’t rock a six pack, he was still firm in the right places and soft in others, and you never got tired of seeing him naked. “Like, making you scream with my tongue buried in your pussy.”

Was the chair on fire? It felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t tear your eyes away as Dean pulled his shirt up a little more, licking his lips in that particularly sinful Winchester way. “Oh god…”

“Yeah? Or how about when I’m sucking on your pretty tits?” His voice was lower now, a virtual growl as he dragged the shirt over his head and threw it across the room. Robert Plant continued to sing in the background, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. “But the best thing?” Dean asked, leaning in close. “Is when I’m fucking you hard, and you’re just lifting those gorgeous fucking legs up, opening up for me while screaming my name.”

“Dean,” you breathed, biting your own bottom lip.

He stood straight, pushing away from you, and you literally squirmed in the seat, desperate to touch him. “I’m not done unwrapping,” he grinned, kicking his shoes off. Okay, it wasn’t the sexiest dance, but you were aroused to the point that whatever he did was making it worse. One shoe landed in the tree as he flicked his foot, and you stifled a giggle. “I know, graceful, right?” Dean joked, before popping the button on his pants.

“Goddamn it, Dean, just show me your cock already,” you demanded, and he laughed, shaking his head but not replying.

Turning on the spot, he swayed his hips from side to side, teasing the material down over the curve of his firm ass. The underwear he had on was… minimal - a thin line of red hugged the top of each cheek, before combining and dipping down the crevice of his butt, and you realized that Dean Winchester was wearing a little red thong.

His pants were almost all the way down now, and the jingling noise was far more pronounced. He stepped out of the pant legs, and you growled in a frustration, despite the very nice sight of his ass framed in red. “What the hell is that noise?”

Dean turned, and you discovered the source. The thong came around his hips, outlining that “v” shape you’d run your tongue over so many times. It gathered in the middle, where a thin layer of red cotton dipped down over his groin, before ending in a face with two googly eyes, antlers and a jingle bell for a nose.

It wasn’t just a thong. It was a reindeer thong.

You couldn’t help it - you burst out laughing. Dean was smiling too, so your amusement was obviously his intention, although he was hard under the thong and straining Rudolph’s grasp on his junk. “Oh…” you sucked in a breath, almost unable to, “okay, I give,” you hiccuped, “we can have Christmas every year.”

“Good,” Dean grinned, before tearing the ridiculous underwear off, throwing it into a corner. Sam would probably find it later and have a conniption, but that was a problem for another hour. “I knew it would work.”

Reaching out for him, you slipped one hand around his hip, pulling him close enough that his cock was bobbing an inch from your nose. You looked up, giving him a sultry smile before licking the tip of his dick. “Now, let me give you  _ my _ present.”

He groaned when you sank your lips down over him, taking the entirety of his cock in your mouth. It tickled your throat, but you were determined to blow his mind, so you cupped his ass in your hands and pulled him even closer, bobbing back and forth to ease his way into your mouth. Dean’s groans got louder as you started to move faster, saliva making each stroke easier.

One of his hands tangled in your hair, and you closed your eyes, focusing on nothing but Dean’s cock, using your tongue to stimulate the sensitive spots on the underside. Your fingers were digging into his ass, leaving little half moon crescents on his skin. He grunted at the slight pressure, but he was too busy losing himself in the movements of your mouth around his cock to moan about a little pain.

“Goddamn, that’s it, fuck,” he growled, letting his head fall back. “You want me to cum in your mouth?” he asked, and you murmured a yes, nodding as much as you could. It wasn’t often you’d swallow for him, but right now, all you wanted was the salty tang of his taste on your tongue. “Fucking… you’re amazing.”

His cock was twitching now, his balls drawn up and hard under his shaft, and you knew he was close. With one drag of air into your lungs, you took him far enough to press your nose into his pubic hair, and Dean lost control. He held you close as he pumped load after load into your throat, and you swallowed eagerly, ignoring the tears in your eyes as your lungs screamed for oxygen.

When he pulled away, you slumped back in the chair, and Dean wobbled on unsteady legs, shaking his head to try and clear the light headedness. “That was…”

You swallowed, clearing your throat of the sticky taste of cum, before grinning. “Amazing. I know. I’m pretty awesome.”

“Take your pants off,” Dean barked, and you blinked, not quite processing the order. He was on his knees in front of you before you could argue, repeating the same command. His fingers assisted you with getting the trousers off, and your panties joined them swiftly, barely landing on the floor before Dean had your thighs spread and your ass in his hands. “I’m gonna return that favor,” he growled, and dragged his tongue through your folds.

Leaning back, you gasped as he started to eat you out, making sloppy, obscene noises. Dean was never quiet where it came to this - you weren’t either. His fingers held your ass off the chair, tilting your hips just enough to allow him to thrust his ridiculously long tongue into your cunt, dragging it upwards until he was teasing your clit.

You came undone in three minutes flat. Your screams bounced off the walls, and Dean kept going until you were a shuddering pile of boneless human on the chair, and he was hard again.

“Bedroom,” you whimpered, pointing with one jelly-like arm.

“Couldn’t agree more,” Dean replied, picking you up, pausing to kiss you, both of you tasting each other on your lips.

“Wait!” you cried, before he started to carry you off, and he stopped, frowning. A smirk lifted your cheeks, and you pointed at the tiny scrap of red fabric. “Bring the thong.”

  
  



End file.
